


How Not to Break Your Favorite Boy

by CaptainSchmoe



Series: Stuff Inspired by Stuff from This Little Septiplier Community That I’m In [7]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 0.02 seconds of boob-touching, AGH, Discussion of Boundaries, Fluff, Heavy Petting, I only made them suddenly hungry at the end so I could enD THIS FIC, M/M, Pastel!Mark, Tickling, accidental near-concussion, punk!jack, skin-kissing, trans!mark, young lovers being young lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSchmoe/pseuds/CaptainSchmoe
Summary: In which Jack and Mark realize theyprobablyshould’ve discussed their touching boundaries beforehand.Mark’s fine, he’s just going to have a bit of a headache for a while.





	How Not to Break Your Favorite Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Similar to the AU from _A Space Where Lambs Can Be Lions_ (pastel/punk), only here they’re a little older and Mark is trans.

Just some mutual body exploration. That was it. Nothing too “serious”. Neither one of them was ready for that just yet.

They’d talked about this, prepared for this, and yet, despite it all amounting to little more than some harmless necking, Jack was initially cautious in his moves, almost afraid that he could break his favorite soft sweater boy if he did the wrong thing.

Yet Mark was all for it, egging him on to _please keep going, this is perfect, just more of this, please._

More of the kissing down Mark’s cheek, jawline, throat, and collarbone that drew such pretty sounds out of him: the hitches in his breath, complete with a squeeze shut of the eyes; the fragile, almost whining moans whose vibrations were so pleasant against Jack’s fingers and lips.

More of the gentle massaging of his belly, sneaking a hand up the front of Mark’s fluffy sky-blue sweater and feeling his baby-smooth skin, soft against his dry and calloused fingers, and with the right amount of squish to it.

Mark tried to return some of the favor, to learn more about Jack, but he was so absorbed in _feeling_ , so lost and willing to let whatever reactions happen, and quite frankly, Jack was perfectly fine with this arrangement. With his earlier nerves all but forgotten, Jack went further, sliding his hand up just enough for his middle fingertip to meet the bottom edge of Mark’s sports bra.

Mark shivered and his voice wavered. Jack took it to mean “more”, rubbing his hand up across his breast.

“Ahh!” Mark yelped and pushed himself off Jack, startling the latter into yanking back his hand. “No, don-” He was interrupted by his sudden fall to the floor.

“Mark!” Thank God there was nothing like a coffee table or anything for him to crack his head against. Still! “Babe!” Jack jumped down to his side, hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Mark groaned, forcing himself back into a sit. “Yeah. Agh...” His hand went to the back of his head. “I’ll be fine.”

 _I meant the touching as much as the falling._ Jack sat on the floor next to him, taking away his hand for the time being. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, no; you didn’t hurt me. Just a little, uh...” Mark’s gaze drifted off, searching the carpet for a decent, inoffensive word.

“Uncomfortable?”

“...Yeah.” He didn’t seem confident in saying it, perhaps afraid that it would upset Jack that he was “forbidden” from a part of his baby for a relatively arbitrary reason.

“That’s fine,” Jack assured him. “I won’t do it anymore.” The lull in energy and volume made him realize that the neighbors would have very easily heard something going on in here. Oops.

“Sorry.” Mark brought his hands down to his lap and shrunk into himself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. Honestly, you should be apologizing more to the neighbors than to me. Heheh...”

The joke earned no response. Only after he said it was it painfully obvious to him that it was the wrong thing to say.

“...Do you want to talk about what’s okay and not okay to touch?”

That got Mark’s eyes lit up with mild interest and pleasant surprise.

“I‘ll share mine, too,” he added for comfort. Jack scooted back up against the couch, and Mark against his side, touching hip-to-hip and allowing Jack’s arm around his back.

“Okay.”

“Is your head okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Future tense?”

“My vision’s normal. My thoughts are clear. It’s just a little throbbing. I think I’m good.”

 _If you say so._ “Uh, okay, I’ll start. Umm...” He mentally scanned over his entire body, trying to think of a “bad” spot. “

“I know your armpits are ticklish,” Mark said for him. With a hint of a devilish grin creeping across his face, to boot. Ah. Yes. The ticklish pits. Mark never let him live it down. And instinctively, Jack clenched his upper arms against his sides.

“Yeah, and don’t be rubbing them, because it gives me this... intrinsic fear that I’m about to be tickled.” He playfully glared down at Mark. “Not the feeling I want to have when I’m trying to do _other stuff._ ”

Mark blushed and giggled, stopping Jack’s thought process. _All right, Jackaboy, try_ not _to give yourself a boner right now._ “I, uh, can’t think of any more right off the top of my head.”

Mark slid down slightly, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack responded with a loving cheek nuzzle into the top of his freshly-washed-and-dried floof, closing his eyes, sinking in, and breathing deep. It was like a cloud on his head. A cloud that smelled of green apples. “So, I guess you know now not to touch my chest, and I’m sorry that I reacted so bad-”

Jack lightly squeezed him. “You’re fine, you’re fine...”

“Maybe it’s because I was raised to think of being touched there as really sexual.”

“Mm.” He nodded against his head.

“Or I guess it’s more like... You know how in a lot of porn there’s a lot of focus on the girl’s boobs?”

“Oh. Yeah?” _I know where this is going._

“Yeah. That’s all I can think about.”

_And you hate it._

... _Ew._ Now Jack felt like he was dangerously close to objectifying him. Was that how Mark felt, too? He supposed it didn’t matter. The reasons underneath it all wasn’t what they were here to talk about, and Jack didn’t want to upset him any more.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me touching your chest anymore,” he said, lifting his head off Mark’s. “I don’t want to do anything that makes my favorite boy unhappy.”

He felt Mark’s cheek muscles shift into a soft smile. Mark always liked being called that. “Thanks.”

“As long as you also agree not to touch my armpits.” He stuck out his hand.

“Haha... Okay.” Mark met eyes with him and shook on it. But he kept that suspicious smirk glued to his face. “Deal.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“I know, it’s just... funny to me. You have _four_ older siblings and you’re not used to being tickled?“

“No, I’m not, and it sucked growing up.”

“Look at this big ol’ tough guy in front of me, with his black leather jacket, and his big black gages, and his badass tattoos all down his arms and back, and his battle scar right up next to his eye...”

_”Battle scar” is a little dramatic for a football injury, but okay._

“...and all it takes to take him down is a simple little...” He snuck his arm up to the armpit closest to him, and Jack let go of him to flinch back and clench his upper arms again.

“You...” Without letting up his protection, he gave the snickering Mark a pseudo-threatening finger point. “...little _shit._ ”

He gave Mark a few seconds to stop laughing, at which point he indeed dropped the act and said with shaking head, “No, no, I promise I won’t touch your armpits, unless I wanna punish you for something.”

Hesitating a bit to think it over, Jack answered, “Okay, I’ll believe you.” Really, Mark liked pampering and being pampered by Jack too much to break that promise.

“I don’t know if you trust me right now, and I think the mood’s been killed enough anyway that I kinda want to wait until tomorrow or whenever to go back to what we were doing. If that’s okay...?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Jack’s eyes flicked over to the clock on the wall. 5:13. “It’s kinda close to supper, anyway. You want anything in particular, or?”

“Eh.” Mark shrugged.

“You want to just get a pizza or something?”

“Sure.” He climbed onto the couch, lying across it. “I’m just gonna rest my head until it shows up.”

“I thought you said your head was gonna be fine?”

“Future tense.” Mark winked, then closed his eyes in a feigned nap. “No pineapple on my half or you’re getting a vicious tickling.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jack: “You little shit.”


End file.
